


A Distraction

by HPDarkAges



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPDarkAges/pseuds/HPDarkAges
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I need a distraction."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> **Author:** [Obeliskking](http://obeliskking.livejournal.com/)

_ June 21, 2024 _

THE LEAVING FEAST was a grand affair. The Great Hall was alive with activity as the students couldn’t keep their excitement up for the hols. And it was also a sad affair. Rosie Weasley spent most of her time drifting from table to table, hoping to catch last moments with friends she knew she may never see again. Finally, she sank down at the Slytherin table next to her best friend, Elise Follet, who was conversing with two other Slytherin seventh years: Quidditch star Scorpius Malfoy and Rosie’s cousin Albie Potter. They paused in their chat to look up as Rose joined them, tossing her school robes at the bench.

“Do you know _everybody_ in this bloody school?” asked Scorpius.

Rosie thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. I do.” One of the perks of being Head Girl was that she had loads of opportunities to interact with students from different Houses. Albie, on the other hand, was slack in his duties. In fact, most of the year had found him being the seventh year who took advantage of the fact that he was “bloody Head Boy” to break curfew.

“Scorpius doesn’t know anybody,” said Elise, referring to the fact that Scorpius could barely name a third of the people in their year.

“But … everybody knows me,” bragged Scorpius. It was true enough: he was famous for being one of the best Chasers Slytherin had, in addition to being Draco Malfoy’s son.

Albie just shook his head in mock irritation, familiar with Scorpius’ antics.

Blaise Zabini, the Potions professor and head of Slytherin House, entered the Great Hall then, making a show of arriving late. He was loftily tall, incredibly dark, and unbelievably handsome–or colloquially as the students of Hogwarts would say, TDH.

“Well, there goes a mug I won’t miss,” said Scorpius as the rest of the group nodded in agreement. 7 full years of Zabini was more than enough for anyone: He was malicious and apathetic to the point of being cruel.

Rose, however, felt a twang of regret. She had excelled at Potions; mostly because she enjoyed how Zabini’s face would light up, his dark skin almost glowing, whenever she correctly brewed a potion. The expression was so different for his usual blank face that her heartbeat would quicken and a jolt of pure delight would escalate through her.

“Morgana’s tits, _why_ is he so damn handsome, though?” Elise asked. She was infinitely more brazen than Rosie could ever hope to be—and full of candour. She was also a great Chaser and she had been offered a reserve spot on the Tutshill Tornadoes for the upcoming Quidditch season. Quidditch ran in her blood: her father was one of the Chasers for the Tchamba Charmers and he had held the position for a number of years.

The group was nodding in agreement at Elise’s statement That is, all but one. “I don’t see it,” Albie admitted.

“You’re blind, Potter,” said Trevor Matthews as he joined them. He, like Rosie, was a Ravenclaw. Unlike Rosie however, he was a Muggleborn wizard who hadn’t assimilated completely into the Wizarding world. After graduation, he would take a “gap year,” a year of leisure—something Muggles did apparently after leaving school—and then head to college to study Accounting.

Rosie’s eyes were fixed on Zabini, who had found a place at the High Table, and, barely acknowledging the rowdiness around him, began his supper. The Herbology professor, Neville Longbottom, was trying to engage him in conversation, but from Rosie’s point of view, Zabini seemed to be making a point of ignoring him. But then again, Zabini made a point of ignoring everybody, actually. A sad thought occurred to her as she wondered if he had any friends. 

_  He strolled into the classroom for their very first Potions class ever, stopping at the front of the room to observe the first years. Zabini said nothing, until the noisy chatter had died. “If I ever ask a question, the first person to speak gets grade A. So, if I asked about—oh, I don’t know— _ Felix Felicis _, and this one here—” He pointed to a random Hufflepuff. “—decides to sing ‘God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs,’ this one gets a class participation mark and the rest of you lot, get nought.”_

_ The noisy chatter began again as the class began to mumble among themselves. Finally, a voice rose above the rest. “But that’s unfair!” protested Trevor. _

_ “And the answer would be wrong,” Rosie added. _

_ “Of course it would,” Zabini said. “But I’m tired of listening to you lot stumble through life. I’m giving you a break.” _

_ “If we’re to slack, how are we going to learn anything?” Rosie wondered. _

_ Zabini shrugged. “Those who want to learn most certainly do, Weasley.” _

_ She hated how he sneered her surname. She had made the mistake of calling attention to herself before the Sorting by being a bit too pragmatic. _

_ “And the rest of you are just here because society warrants it,” he continued. “Something I’ve observed from my _ too _bleeding long Hogwarts tenure.”_

“Rosie?” Elise’s voice intruded Rosie’s thoughts.

“I’m going to tell him off,” Rosie declared. She turned to face her friends. “I’m going to walk right up to him and say, ‘Zabini, you’re a right bastard.’”

Scorpius grinned, nodding in encouragement. “Do it!”

“Don’t do it, Rosie,” objected Albie. “Zabini can’t be intimidated.”

Scorpius scowled at him, jamming a Chorley cake into Albie’s mouth to shut him up. Albie took a bite of it, and then took it out and stuffed the rest of it into Scorpius’ mouth.

Rosie shot a pointed look at Elise, who happened to be Albie’s ex, and Trevor, who happened to be Scorpius’ ex. Both looked mildly uncomfortable. Albie and Scorpius had the sort of closeness that caught most people off-guard.

“Well, best of British!” said Elise, forcing a laugh to dispel the tension.

Rosie was rising shakily to her feet to cross the Great Hall when the owl came in, swooping just above her head that she jumped away in surprise. The bird, carrying a parcel, flew across the room and dropped its burden at Zabini’s plate. Then the owl flew off the way it came.

Zabini opened the parcel in front of him, stared at the contents for a bit, and then re-wrapped it hastily. Then, abandoning his half-eaten supper and the prattling Longbottom, he grabbed the parcel and strolled out of the room.

“What is he up to?” asked Trevor. 

Rosie shrugged, her curiosity alight. Without another word to her friends, she followed Zabini, careful to keep her distance. The older man was clearly upset for he moved with the kind of imprecision that only a troubled mind would possess. She followed him out the Castle, past the Whomping Willow, around the Quidditch pitch, and through the front gates. Down, down, down to Hogsmeade. He, at last, entered the Three Broomsticks.

She stopped at the entrance, wondering if it was wise to follow him in. What was Zabini doing here _now_ anyway? Had someone Owled to meet him? Was he in trouble? She cast an _Obscuro_ —mastered, thanks to “everybody knows” Scorpius—and, after slowly inhaling some air, entered the inn.

A quick glance about the floor did not find Zabini. And Rosie wondered if she had dawdled too long. She dashed up the stairs and down the hallway leading to the rooms. Finally, she had found him: Zabini was fiddling with a door, his parcel still in hand and a floating tankard by his head. He pushed the door open and barged into the room, forgetting his tankard in the hallway and pushing the door close behind him. Then, at the last second, the large floating cup swerved after him, entering the room just as the door shut.

Rosie paused at the door. What if Zabini had a visitor? What if it was a _woman_? What if ... No, she had seen him enter alone. Raising her wand just in case she needed to perform _Alohomora_ , she tried the door knob. It gave way easily.

Zabini was still at the small table at the back of the room, the tankard in his hand and the parcel on the table before him. He was staring hard at the parcel as if hoping to Vanish it with his eyes. He looked up a few seconds after the door opened. “What are you doing here, Weasley?” he barked. “What do you want?”

“I have something to say,” she declared, closing the door behind her.

He gave her that blank look he had mastered. “Let’s hear it.”

Rosie took a deep breath and then, in one long exhale, delivered her message, “ZabiniYou’reARightBastard.”

Zabini threw his head back and let out a deep throaty laugh that Rosie felt all the way to her loins. Then his smile disappeared as he straightened to face her. “Leave.”

Rosie considered turning around, pulling the door open, and bolting out of the Inn for a brief second. But she regained her courage. “You’re not my professor anymore,” she protested. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

He growled, “Fine, then” and took a long swig of his tankard.

Rosie stood awkwardly, her back pressed against the door. “Are you expecting someone? The door was unlocked.”

He growled, “The ghosts of my failures will arrive eventually.”

She flicked a Locking Charm at the door before closing the distance between Zabini and herself, but instantly found herself regretting the movement. He was much more handsome up close. “W-would you like to talk about it?” she asked, suddenly feeling a lot braver. “Your failures?”

“Could we?” Zabini inquired, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m lonely. And so _alone_. I just … need somebody to hold me.”

She wondered how much of the truth was hidden beneath those words.

“I need a distraction,” he admitted, taking another long swig.

Distraction? Zabini himself was an embodiment of distraction. What could she possibly do that would ... Rosie licked her lips as thoughts of snogging Zabini suddenly came to mind.

There was that courage again. Gathering all of it, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Zabini pushed her away and rose to his feet. “Have you taken leave of your senses!" he bellowed. 

“Yes,” she said flatly. As Zabini was gathering his thoughts, she took advantage and planted another kiss on his mouth. She heard a loud _Thunk!_ as the tankard hit the ground, and then he was pulling her in, closer. She slipped her arms about his neck to allow him better access, and Zabini took the opportunity to draw her in, unto the bed, as if he was trying to merge their two bodies together. He flipped her on the bed, rolling on top.

He was sucking on her bottom lip now, slowly threading his fingers through her hair. His tongue prodded at her lips, begging access, and she acquiesced, sucking in … wanting more, craving more. A wave of delight shot through her—from her head straight between her legs. Her pussy was already throbbing with need.

Then he stopped.

Rosie’s breath hitched, wondering if this was where they would stop, pretending that they didn’t want to _feel_. “Professor.” Her doubts were unfounded, though, for Zabini began unbuttoning her shirt with ease. He focused his lips to her left ear—first with a kiss, then with a suck.

Rosie … couldn’t breathe. Who knew that her ears would be so alluring?

He licked the area just below her ear, and then turned his pleasures to the other ear, all the while shrugging her out of her shirt. He moaned, pulling her closer with a kiss; then the bra had also gone the way of the shirt.

Her breasts were bare; she could feel the cool air lapping at the nipples which hardened at the exposal. She swallowed as he took a look at them. She knew they were small in comparison to girls like Elise, and that the right one was slightly smaller than the other, and that she was way too pale, and that—

Her reservations flew out of her head when Zabini left a trail of kisses down her throat and across her chest and down to her breast. He paused, briefly, to plant a kiss on the right tit before taking the hardened nipple into his mouth. After deliberate sucks, he moved his attentions to the left breast.

Rosie could do naught but moan.

Then he all of a sudden pulled away—briefly—to cast a Sheath Charm.

_ “A Sheath Charm,” her mother’s voice came ringing, “is for ... protection.” _

Rosie blushed to the tips of her ears.

Zabini was shuffling out of his pants and trousers. And then he was settling between her legs, the tip of his cock poised as her entrance. She glanced at his penis—a lean but long phallus—and wondered at the size.

“Wait,” she whispered after a sudden thought. “Am I prepared?”

Zabini gave her a look of astonishment before rolling his shoulders.

Next thing Rosie knew, he had inserted one long finger into her hot, wet pussy. She gasped, arching her hips forward. Zabini smirked, and then inserted a second finger. And Rosie was … she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe … as he fucked her with his fingers. Then he pulled the fingers out, chuckling as he brought them to his lips. Rosie stared blankly as he slowly licked them clean.

“You’re prepared,” he declared. And with one swift moment, his cock was buried inside her to the hilt.

Merlin, she was dying. Even though her vagina had moistened in preparation, the entry had hurt. Zabini’s penis was too lengthy for her first time. “Wait!” she cried. “Wait. Wait.” But it also felt so good, though. She felt him inside her, stretching her, filling her.

“Go slowly,” she said. “Go slow.”

Zabini raised an eyebrow. “Are you a virgin, Weas—” He paused at her family name. “Rosie?”

She nodded slowly as her body melded around him.

He started to move, unhurriedly at first. Then his pace quickened as Rosie pulled him into her. She wanted to get closer. Closer. Faster. Faster. And she was flying! Flying! Flying! Soaring! _Whoa!_ This felt like Felix Felicis … _and_ being drunk on Firewhiskey … _and_ making an O on her Potions O.W.L. … and snuggling up with a good book—all rolled into one.

“P-P-Professor,” she managed to stutter out between her moans and groans.

“Call me Professor one more time, Rosie,” Zabini growled in her ear, “and I’ll teach you a bloody lesson!” He kissed her hard, as his words began to punctuate his thrusts. “I don’t … want … _you_ … you … half-blood _tart_. But I’m … plastered … and angry … and randy.”

Merlin, she must be something of a masochist because Zabini’s callous words just caused her to want more of him. Everything. _All_. “Zabini,” she squeaked so repeatedly it became her chant. “Zabini. Zabini!” But she forgot the words. “Ninini…”

She began to groan as her whole world went swirling. She was reaching for something to grip as everything came crashing. Her nails dug into his shoulder. He cried out in pleasure or in pain—Rosie wasn’t sure there was a difference between the two anymore. Zabini came shortly after, riding the wave of her orgasm.

They both let out long sighs of relief. And then gravity, the cruel bitch it was, pulled at them; the loss of equilibrium coming as a shock. Rosie cried out in surprise as she fell back unto the bed, Zabini tumbling on top of her. She hadn’t even realised that they were actually _hovering_.

“Ah… fuck,” he mumbled, pulling out of her and rolling unto the bed.

Rosie opened her mouth to say something … but the overwhelming exhilaration could not be adequately described.

Zabini sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“If that’s how sex feels,” said Rosie, “ _how_ do people function?”

He let out a chuckle.

 “That was a wonderful distraction; that was,” she said, smiling at him.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he sat up and out of bed, reaching for his pants. Rosie had a good show of his firm buttocks before his underwear hid them. He turned around to shoot a glare at her, and Rosie hastened to look away at the rest of room, finally realising what a disarray it was in.

Did _they_ do that? The mirror on the wall had fallen. The little table in the corner had turned on itself, one of its chairs across the room and the other—Merlin knew where the other chair was.

Zabini threw her bra at her. “Get dressed,” he ordered.

Rosie nodded, getting out of bed to gather her clothing. Merlin, it hurt to stand. But she pushed through and got suitably clothed.

“This _never_ happened,” Zabini gritted out.

Rosie nodded in agreement. What exactly had she expected? This whole ... escapade ... had been nothing more than a _distraction_.

He slumped back into bed, having unduly dismissed her.

As she headed for the door, she caught glimpse of the parcel that had set Zabini off. It was opened, its contents—a small Battenberg cake—plopped across the floor. And she could _just_ make out the writing scrawled across the marzipan, _Happy birthday, Blaise._

XXXXX

ROSIE WAS LYING in bed later that night, trying not to think of the feel of Zabini’s cock buried deep within her and the ministrations of his tongue across her breasts. Then the group Tag came in.

The Tag was invented by Draco Malfoy, who was now more famous for it than he was infamous for having Death Eater ties during the Wizarding War. The beauty of the Tag was in its simplicity. A small device attached to the arm, it was activated and deactivate by simple charms, _Tago Excitant/De-excitant_. In order to Tag someone, you first had to exchange signatures. Then you could send short messages or simple alerts only readable by the receiver.

The first message jolted Rosie. And she reluctantly escaped her thoughts to tap her Tag. The message flashed in the air above her head.

** QuidditchQueenie2006 ** : How’d it go?

Knowing Elise, if Rosie didn’t reply soon, she would send a flood of other messages until a response was sent.

** RoseLikesProse ** : About as well as you would imagine.

Rosie’s answer was deliberately vague. She could definitely _not_ tell her friends about a shag that had _not_ happened.

** A_Potter ** : I told you so.

Of course _Albie_ would say that.

** A_Potter ** : Zabini can’t be intimidated.

Rose could actually _see_ Slytherin pride, oozing off Albie’s Tag.

** TrevorM ** : Dreadfully sorry, Rosie.

** TrevorM ** : But good on you.

** QuidditchQueenie2006 ** : Look on the bright side.

** QuidditchQueenie2006 ** : Zabini can’t dock points.

** A_Potter ** : And you won’t have to see him ever again.

** AbominableAndIncorrigible ** : Fuck Zabini, Rosie.

Ah, Scorpius. She could always count on him to say something off-colour.

** RoseLikesProse ** : Ha ha.

** A_Potter ** : I apologise, everyone.

** A_Potter ** : He’s arseholed.

** AbominableAndIncorrigible ** : I wish.

** A_Potter ** : I meant, he’s an arsehole.

** TrevorM ** : Yeah, fuck him.

** TrevorM ** : Zabini, I mean.

** QuidditchQueenie2006 ** : Fuck him like a broom.

** AbominableAndIncorrigible ** : Is that disparagement, Elise?

** AbominableAndIncorrigible ** : You clearly haven’t fucked any brooms.

** A_Potter ** : Scorpius.

** AbominableAndIncorrigible ** : It’s sex-hilarating.

** A_Potter ** : Scorpius!

** AbominableAndIncorrigible ** : What?

** AbominableAndIncorrigible ** : You’re the git who quit Quidditch.

XXXXX

“Rosie’s going to be a grand Potions Master,” said Elise winking at Rosie.

Rosie winked back over the book that was currently curling on her lap.

“Scorpius and Albie are going to be Aurors!” Elise gave the mentioned persons two thumbs up. “I’m going to be Quidditch star.” She turned the thumbs to point towards herself. “And you—” Her palms widen to indicate Trevor “—are going to be an accountant.”

Trevor laughed, a rich sound that suddenly had Rosie recalling Zabini’s deep sated laughter from the night before.

She hadn’t caught a glimpse of the older man today before embarking on the train that was now taking them all back to London, away from Hogwarts forever, but almost everything had had her remembering the escapade that had “never” happened. Even knowing that he would deny knowledge of everything, Rosie had still been hoping to link glances just one last time, curious at what his expression would say—if it would gave away the secret they now both shared.

“I still haven’t figure out what an accountant is,” said Scorpius with a shrug.

“Someone who deals with financial information,” Trevor began in a monotonous voice that meant he had memorised the information, “keeping track of how money comes and goes.”

Rosie turned her attention back to her book: one of her favourites, H.D.’s _Trilogy_.

O swiftly, re-light the flame   
before the substance cool,  
  


_ The candlelight dances about his face as he looks up from the parcel he’s been boring a glance into— _

  
for suddenly we saw your name  
desecrated; knaves and fools  
  


_ — “just need somebody to hold me”— _

  
have done you impious wrong,  
Venus, for venery stands for impurity  
  


_ —His deep, hearty laughter sending shivers down her spine— _

  
and Venus as desire  
is venereous, lascivious,  
  


_ —A sloppy wet tongue sliding across her ear— _

  
while the very root of the word shrieks  
like a mandrake when foul witches pull  
  


_ — “Zabini. Zabini. Zabini.”— _   
  


its stem at midnight,   
and rare mandragora itself  
  


_ —He slowly licks his fingers, a hint of mischief running about his face— _

  
is full, they say, of poison,  
food for the witches’ den.  
  


_ —Soaring, dancing, rushing, FLYING— _

“Rosie?” Elise suddenly interrupted.

_ —The sudden feeling of falling. _

Rosie looked up, swallowing the large gulp that had been stuck in her throat.

“Are you reading a dirty novel?” wondered Elise.

Eyes widening, Rosie realised how guilty she looked: biting her lips, clutching her robes, breathing heavily, and sweating profusely. Had the book _always_ been so sensual?

Albie raised an eyebrow. “Whaaaaat.” He reached for the book, but she was quick enough to remove it from his grasp before he could read anything.

Scorpius chuckled. “Oh, you are,” he said slowly, wagging his eyebrows.

Casting a Shrinking Spell to fit the book into one of her pockets, Rosie raised her chin. “None. Of. Your. Business.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment here, or return to [comment on Livejournal.](http://hp-darkages.livejournal.com/7331.html)


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